


Two x Two

by twelvepercentofaplan



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types, Ratchet & Clank
Genre: Clank's guilty pleasure is Courtney Gears music (just for a joke), Contest Entry, Crossover, Drinking & Talking, Gen, Groot and Clank play cards, Humor, Other, Ratchet and Rocket bond over their issues, Worst Writing I've Ever Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-17 00:59:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3509240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twelvepercentofaplan/pseuds/twelvepercentofaplan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whaddaya call it when a tree, a raccoon, a feline, and a robot beat the shit out of a massive, titanium tank with a snake's head?</p><p>A - A fairytale with too much to drink.<br/>B - The start to a real shitty joke.<br/>C - The events that preceded a night of drinking at a bar.</p><p>Hint: the answer this time is C.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Raccoon, Lombax, Flora Colossus, and Robot walk into a bar...

**Author's Note:**

> For my kickass friend divisionten's 'Guardians March Fic Challenge'! And also coz I'd love for all four of these losers to kick ass together one way or another.
> 
> I actually had a different entry in mind that involved something after 'Infinity War' that involved the Guardians (the remnants of them, actually) tryin' to come back from that entire ordeal. Course I don't know if the Guardians'll be involved with that but I can only assume they will...
> 
> So this came about. I was thinkin' up other ideas and saw one of the categories was "Best Crossover". And almost immediately, these other two characters I've paired Rocket and Groot with popped into my head. Aside from this, I tried to work a BH6 crossover with the same idea of Rocket and Groot meetin' up with Hiro and Baymax. But I'm strugglin' with it a bit since the characters are so alike and since the setting is hard to adjust Rocket and Groot to.
> 
> But that might pop up in the next few months.
> 
> Let me elaborate on a few things that I gotta clear up so there ain't any confusion.
> 
> 1\. I'm fully aware Courtney Gears was a villain in 'Up Your Arsenal'. I've never played that game. So the joke within this story is just a joke and nothing more.  
> 2\. I'd assume this is post-'A Crack in Time' and after the Guardians movie.  
> 3\. The Anti-Argon Battleplex is a cheap knockoff of the Agorian Battleplex from R&C: A Crack In Time, complete with knock off renditions of the minigames played on the same Battleplex. Rocket's just an idiot for pulling into it...  
> 4\. This is my first time writing for Ratchet and Clank as characters and as a series. Hope I did those guys justice. Love 'em both as much as I love Rocket and Groot.
> 
> Enough of my BS for now. Enjoy this stupidity.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's almost like lookin' in a mirror.
> 
> I mean, two got fur and the other two are... erm, other materials.

“I-frickin’- ** _hate_** -bots.”

That’s how this all starts. Robots, fighting, broken gears, some blood, a raccoon with a weapon blazing brightly, a tree dismantling everything that dares to harm either of them, and scaly fuckers that really just put them into a ridiculous state of insanity.

Panting, on his knees, out of energy, and sweating. He’s never done that last part too often, his species (raccoon? That’s what Quill called him) only dropping tiny dribbles of the liquid from his hands and feet when necessary. But right now he’s drenched, panting heavily, knees weak, feeling incapable of standing back on his feet without falling back to the ground.

The room-no, this isn’t a room. This is an arena. A twisted, sick version of an arena on a massive space hull called deemed the Anti-Agron Battleplex. Rocket, the poor sonuvabitch who’s on his knees in the center of the playing field, which is basically a massive square island floating on fuckin’ burning lava, is legitimately confused as to how he and Groot had become players in a game they really had no intention of committing to.

All they’d wanted was some time away from the Guardians, a vacation of sorts. Maybe visit Felix with its nice, hot, sandy beaches. Or maybe they could go for some dirty work that’ll definitely put ‘em back on the radar. Bounties, mercenary jobs, some snatch-and-grabs even. If it's under the table and slightly shady, Rocket's who you call.

But instead of those desired dirty jobs or a vacation for the two of them, Rocket pulled them into this place completely by accident, thinking maybe it was one of those fancy new mobile hotels that you park your ship in, check in for the night, grab a bite to eat, and then continue on with your life. They'd become quite populous and well-known around the sectors as of late, and it only seemed that this bulky, massive structure was most definitely one of those same things. They were greeted by a clerk with his scaly-structure, backwards cap, and laid back attitude, and checked into an elevator after giving the necessary information. Names, how many, all that good stuff.

Then they got shoved into an elevator and Rocket expected to be greeted with a hallway.

But nope. He’d basically pulled himself and his good old pal into the fight of their lives.

“I am-am Groot,” Groot says, pulling Rocket up and gently placing him back onto his shaky knees.  _It is-is seemingly finished. There is not the sight of another-another battle robot in range._

Rocket grips Groot’s leg tightly, holding his massive weapon in his other hand loosely. “I just-just need a sec,” the raccoon huffs. “Just-Just lemme-”

Suddenly, the speakers squeal over the roaring crowd of yellow-skinned lizard people, stuffing their faces with dried fruit and sugary drinks. “Seems like our two volunteers-”

“We-We ain’t volunteers!” Rocket yells despite his shortness of breath.

“-have pressed off our totally-not-off-brand-versions-of-Agorian-Battleplex-Bots! Seriously, who knew outsiders would manage that?! Like, what is that thing?!”

Rocket scowls. “That ain’t very nice!” He gestures to Groot with a wave of his hand. “He’s  ** _just_**  a tree!”

Groot leers at Rocket but the raccoon gives him little notice.

“Guess now it’s time for us to reel in the rest of the cavalry for ‘em, then! They’re gonna need all the help they can get for the Serpent Tank for the finale!”

A frickin’ Serpent Tank?! Seriously?! “Ya kiddin’ me?!” Rocket cries out. “We-We ain’t gonna live through that! Not unless we gotta-”

“So we are pleased to announce our next volunteers! Two equally weird and screwed up beings as that tree and that… thing! Have another equally furry thing like that one down there, but with a wrench instead of a gun six times his weight, and the toaster that rides on his back!”

Rocket continues huffing desperately as the sudden flash of blue from the teleporter, presumably the same one used to take Rocket and Groot from the press box to the platform on lava, flashes to their left, revealing the duo’s new partners in crime-which also happen to be an equally strange duo.

“Okay, seriously?! They didn’t even take the cuffs off! How am I supposed to get my wrench off my back?”

Cuffs? Rocket and Groot didn’t have those. But this guy, who has at least another two feet on Rocket, is covered in yellow fur with perky ears and a brown, strange hat Rocket thinks looks ridiculous firmly planted on his head. At close observation, Rocket notices the strange set of clothing, almost like some sort of one-piece armor that’s tight fitting and made of a fiber that looks impenetrable. Pads on his shoulders, arms, legs, and gloves are all adorned in silver metal, a circular emblem that looks like a sapphire embedded into his chest.

“Perhaps it is because we are their prisoners, Ratchet?” a voice comes from seemingly nowhere before, suddenly, the owner of the very tiny sounding voice comes from… well, a very tiny person who makes their way into view on two legs. “They do not want us to have an advantage in this battle. “

“It really is a toaster!” Rocket laughs. “Green eyes, arms, legs, but yep! Ya got a toaster with ya! Pffft!”

The feline creature that Rocket just closely observed, who’s name’s apparently Ratchet, gives a smug look at Rocket. “Look, can you just make use of your gun and fry these things off of us?” the yellow one requests calmly.

“What’re ya? My boss? Don't think-hey! What’s that for, Groot?!”

“I am Groot!” _Do as he says! The tank is here!_

“No it-!”

_**Boom.** _

“Oh. Well, I’m wrong again,” Rocket says admittedly. “Hold ‘em out, hairy. You too, toaster boy.”

The two strangers do as the raccoon commands, the massive blaster in Rocket’s hands letting out two quick shots and relieving the pair of their restraints. The toaster immediately jumps onto Ratchet’s back after the yellow-furred creature whips his wrench off his back and gestures nervously toward the massive, roaring tank with a frickin Serpent for a head. “Uh, yeeah. Great. Guess these-ahem, Tanks are common around here?”

“Not sure. Don’t know these guys-” Rocket says as the entourage of people who’ve never met back away from the tank when it gives them a glare. “Just gonna assume ya got some kinda beef with ‘em?”

A nod. “Yep. Just another day in the life.”

“Great. Gonna need a plan of attack. Ya good at this fightin’ thing, uh… said you’re name’s Ratchet?”

“Yeah. And yes, Ratchet’s the name. This is Clank.”

“Or Toaster,” the robot snidely corrects.

“Rocket,” the raccoon says, cocking his weapon. “This here’s-”

Suddenly, the tree on Rocket’s side springs forward, branches spewing out of his back like tendrils as he suddenly grows a few feet higher. “I am  _ **GROOOOT**_!” he cries out, beginning a full frontal assault on the machine that keeps them all away from their freedom.

“Yeah. That. He’s Groot.”

Ratchet smirks. “Well, I’d say he’s got the right idea. Attack? Go for broke? Aim for the bolts?”

Rocket aims his weapon down the sight and bares his teeth threateningly. “That’s the plan. Attack.”

* * *

 

“I-frickin’-hate-’bots.” This time, it comes from Ratchet’ mouth.

“But not me, right?”

“Shut. Up.”

Rocket looks around, panting like he’d been before, but he’s not miserable. In fact, the sight of the Serpent Tank’s head sprawled out, bolts cranked out with quick succession by the strange wrench his newfound companion had used, ending their fight just before Groot lost his arm and Rocket lost his head.

Rocket nudges Groot in his leg. “They gonna-let-us-out in a sec. Wanna head down to the nearest planet and get a drink?”

Groot nods up and down after a moment of thought.

“Hey. Fuzzy,” the raccoon says, prodding Ratchet with his foot. “Join us? I'll buy your first round.”

Ratchet gives Rocket a frustrated look. “Can-I-catch-my-breath-”

“We’d be happy to accompany you,” the walking toaster- ** _Clank_** -responds for his friend. “Of course, after we make a break out of this structure.”

Rocket looks to Groot, who gives a reluctant shrug, and the raccoon looks back to Clank with a smirk. “Kelvin-II sound good?”

* * *

 

“-and that’s how Groot managed to get us outta Prison Number Sixteen!” Rocket announces with a laugh as he downs a massive swig of some kind of very low-key drink. Usually after one or so shot he’s tipsy and drunk as hell, but this must be short on the overall percentage of alcohol content in the drink.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Ratchet says with a laugh, “he distracted the guard by seducing him?”

Rocket pounds on the table with a fist, laughing so hard he can barely get another word out. “Y-Yeah! I mean, he didn’t actually, like, y’know,  ** _go down on the dude_** , but I needed a distraction to cut the coils ‘n’ get us the hell outta there! Mostly came onto 'im and made some real dirty comments."

“Wooooow,” Ratchet says, looking in the direction of where the two furry creatures’ friends sit. Groot and Clank, both creatures who have no real reason to drink (although Groot does enjoy the taste), sit at a table not too far away with some sort of card game in front of them. Groot’s giving the square-shaped robot a confused look while Clank says something in explanation to the game he’s attempting to teach the tree. “Weird tactic for a prison break. Groot seems like a good guy, though.”

“Yep,” Rocket nods in agreement before nodding toward the wrench on Ratchet’s back. “Wrench’s electromagnetic? Tore the bolts right outta that Tank’s neck like it was nothin’.” Rocket stares in quiet admiration for another moment before he’s back to wisecracking. “Why’s ya got a tool for a weapon? You a mechanic or somethin’?”

Ratchet looks over his shoulder at his weapon of choice. “Well, sorta. I build stuff here and there. Fixed up Qwark's ray gun, and a sand bike back on-you have no idea what a sand bike is.” Ratchet’s right. Based off the confused look Rocket’s giving, he can only assume the raccoon has little to no clue what in the hell he’s talking about. “Point is, yeah. Fixed up our ship when we needed to now and then. Actually, I built an entire ship with just my first wrench…”

“Wait, ya managed to built an entire ship for two with just one wrench?” Rocket’s words are coated in disbelief.

“It didn’t get far,” Ratchet admits sheepishly.

“Hell no it didn’t,” Rocket says. “Coz it prob’bly ain’t real.”

Ratchet rolls his eyes. “That was a long time ago. And why do you care so much?”

Rocket grins. “Coz I like bein’ right.”

Ratchet scoffs. “Whatever. What do you do for a living, anyways? Go around shooting up as much stuff as possible with that gun on your back?” the Lombax retorts.

“As a matter’a fact, no,” Rocket says in his defense. “Me ‘n’ Groot gotta team. Do loads’a work for clients that hire us.”

“Legal work?”

“Most’a the time, yeah. But we ain’t heroes or nothin’. Just me, Groot, Quill, Drax, and Gamora all stuck on some tiny ship.”

“And they aren’t with you because you guys wanted to go on vacation?”

Rocket nods. “Yep. Gams was worried ‘bout us goin’.” The raccoon swirls his drink slightly as he gives a sigh at the thought’a his green friend insisting he and Groot would make trouble for them. “She’s a wreck ‘bout me.”

Ratchet grins. “You got a lady friend?”

Rocket looks at Ratchet, astounded he’d even make an implication like that. “Wha-no! Me ‘n’ Gams ain’t like that. I mean… not like I  ** _wouldn’t_**  wanna be involved with her like that. Who wouldn’t?”

Ratchet laughs. “Wow. That’s sad, man.”

“Why? ‘S’not like ya got a d’ast lady waitin’ for ya yourself.” Another sip from his glass.

“Actually,” Ratchet says matter-of-factly, “I just might. Name’s Talw-”

“Shaddup.”

“I’m joking, grumpy,” Ratchet persists. “Seriously, how does Groot even work out with you? I can’t imagine how anything even works out with you being such a grouch and he’s such a ray of sunshine.”

“Whaddaya mean by that?” Rocket growls, giving the Lombax a glare. “Ya barely known me ‘n’ Groot for two hours. Just coz we came out for a drink in celebration of kickin’ that tank’s metal ass don’t mean me ‘nd you are best buddies, Ratchet.” The raccoon kicks takes another swig from the glass and wipes his lip.

“I don’t mean it like that,” Ratchet says with a furrowed brow. “I’m just saying it seems weird of you to be with a guy like Groot. I mean, didn’t you just tell me he’s a prince?”

Rocket nods sheepishly. “ _ **Was**_  a prince,” he corrects. “It-It’s a long story. Speakin’a long stories, how’d you ‘n’ Toaster McGee over there get stuck up in that Battleplex? Some dumb thinkin’ on your part? Ya don’t seem all that bright.”

"Hardy-har-har," Ratchet mutters before he laughs nervously. “Well, uh, see, me and Clank are kinda in the same boat as you guys right now. Just got done saving three galaxies-”

 ** _Three_  **galaxies?!

“-and fighting off a Landshark attack in three villages-”

Landsharks?!

“-and… oh, yeah! Also just got done building an outpost for the Galactic-”

“If ya got a point,” Rocket interrupts, not wantin’ to hear about Ratchet and Clank’s many accomplishments as of late, “make it?”

“The point is that we’ve been trying to find a place to get away for a bit ourselves,” Ratchet admits with a rough sigh. “We were trying to get to Pokitaru but then those Agrons picked us up for personal vengeance on the both of us.”

“Better than thinkin’ it’s a mobile hotel,” Rocket mumbles into the lip of his glass.

The feline continues with a snicker at Rocket’s comment. “It's really not, honestly. The host, name's Skrags, always wants us there for publicity. Everytime he tracks us nearby their location in space, he beams us up without warning and literally throws us into that deathtrap arena built by psychopaths."

"Uh, why?"

"Skrags thinks we owe him since we got his first business on Veldin shut...” As his voice begins fading slightly near the end of his sentence, Ratchet’s ears fall back slightly at the name of the planet that Rocket finds to be unfamiliar. Veldin?

“Veldin’s a hard place for ya?” Rocket asks when he notices the body language, trying to remain interested.

Ratchet shrugs. “Well, it was my home for a long while before Clank literally burst into the room ten or so years ago.” He finally takes a sip from his own drink, making a disgusted face at the taste. It's bitter, slightly sweet, but the sourness is overwhelming. “I, uh, didn’t grow up with a family and such.”

Rocket blinks. Is Ratchet in a similar boat as Rocket?

“I mean, my, uh, parents died during some war with a guy named Tachyon. Killed basically my entire race. The rest are just…” Ratchet gives another sigh. “Sorry, I don’t really mean to be-”

“It’s fine,” Rocket says a little too quickly. Ratchet gives Rocket a wide look, eyebrow cocked at the raccoon’s sudden interruption. “I, uh… don’t got no one like me in the galaxy either. Just me. I get that.”

Ratchet cocks his head slightly. “Oh? I assumed you were from the same galaxy as me. You're furry, got a tail, ears. Furred species are kind of prominent around there. Dumb assumption, I guess.”

So these two, Ratchet and Clank, aren’t from this galaxy after all. Rocket wasn’t sure, but he’s never seen a creature like Ratchet in his entire life. The furry buggers back on Planet X, who were almost like chipmunks with wider eyes, didn't exactly count despite their intelligence. They could understand Groot but they couldn't speak or eat. Ratchet's something else entirely. Clank good very well be, but it’s definitely not possible that the robot was created in this galaxy if he’s been with Ratchet for well over ten years.

“I, uh, was put under the knife a lot,” Rocket says slowly. He watches Ratchet’s face transform from a look of confusion to one of surprise and awe. “Y-Yeah. Wasn’t born to stand up and… y’know? I just get it, the alone thing. Ain’t no thing like you?”

The Lombax shakes his head. “Well, there was Al-” Ratchet hesitates slightly, and then drops the name off at that. “Nope. Just me in this universe.”

Rocket nods in understanding, swirling his glass slightly. “Yo, how many drinks have we both had?”

Quickly, the two count their glasses before they both announce at the same time, “I’ve got three.”

Six total?

“Ohhhh,” Rocket holds the syllable like a note. “Guess that’s why we’re feelin’ like we gotta talk about this dumb crap.”

“Yeeeeah,” Ratchet admits in a similar tone of voice to the raccoon’s, resting his head in his gloved palms. “This is why I don’t drink often.”

“Coz ya get put into a bad mood?”

“No, because I always end up too tired to fly and Clank plays ‘‘Courtney Gears: Live at the Agorian Hall’ on Aphelion’s holo-screen over and over and over.”

Despite not knowing who the hell that is, Rocket shares a laugh with Ratchet at the comment. Ratchet’s a pretty likeable guy, Rocket thinks, despite the kinda serious exterior he’d put on during their first ten seconds of meeting. After drinking and talking over stories of their own personal accounts of victory and failure for an hour and a half, Rocket’s come to like the feline creature.

Plus they’re both alone in the very best way. Alone, but with a non-biological best friend who metaphorically (and quite literally, in Ratchet’s case) constantly has their back.

“Hey, loser,” Rocket says, nudging Ratchet between the ribs.

“Hm?” he grunts in response, pulling his head out of his gloved hands.

Rocket gives a cheesy grin and raises his glass. “To bein’ totally alone. Ain’t no thing like us, ‘cept us.”

The raccoon expects Ratchet to roll his eyes and shoot his offer down. So seeing the Lombax crack a similar grin and then clink his glass against the raccoon’s is a surprise to Rocket. “To kicking that Serpent Tank’s stupid, metal, tin can ass.”

And Rocket couldn’t agree with that second statement more.

* * *

 

A short time later, after Clank’s taught Groot a game so complex Groot couldn’t even play it (a very strangely twisted version of poker he and Ratchet had made up themselves with ridiculous amounts of technicalities involved), he settled with a simple game he’d learned from Ratchet many moons ago. The poor tree caught on quickly, but Clank was confident that he’d manage to pull a victory out from under the massive, wooden creature’s stumpy feet.

But Groot’s kicking his butt at it.

“Do you have any eights?”

“I am Groot.” _I do not_.

“Blasted-” The robot gives a low rumble of frustration as he pulls another card from the pile and gives it a sad look. “Just an eight. I need an eight, a two, and-”

“I am _**Groot**_?”  _Would you possibly have any **twos**?_

Clank grimaces. “Yes, I have a two.” He hands the card over to Groot with a sigh and watches as the tree reduces the cards in his hand from one to zero, thus giving the tree the victory. Groot claps his hands in excitement. “It was foolish of me to announce that aloud. Curse this game and it’s frustrating rules.”

Groot chuckles to himself and holds out his hand. “I am Groot?” he insists.  _Was it not a good game, Clank?_

Clank rises to his feet on the stool, jumping up slightly to connect his tiny hand against Groot’s root-like palm as he gives his typical, almost-signature laugh. “Indeed, a good game.”

Groot smiles widely at Clank. “I am Groot?” _May I inquire how you understand exactly what I’m saying? Only Rocket is capable of such a task. To meet another being, although you are mostly machine, who can understand me is fascinating_.

“How do I understand you?” Clank taps the side of his head. “Micro-processing translator. I am programmed to understand practically any form of communication, from spoken language to verbal sign language as well. The high pitches of air in your voice indicate what you’re saying and my brains translates it for me.” If Clank could smile back at Groot, he would.

Groot gives a nod in understanding as his eyes drift toward their two furry companions who are sitting at the bar, looking deep in conversation with smiles on their faces. “I am Groot?”  _May I ask you another question?_

Clank nods. “Anything. Quite literally, anything. My memory banks range from algorithims for complicated mathematical problems to the holo-vision guide for next Thursday night. And yes, oil can be substituted by butter when baking. That seems to be a very common one I get from strangers.” He laughs again.

Groot nods before he begins slowly. “I am… I  _ **am**_  Groot?” _Ratchet wouldn’t happen to be from… from **Halfworld** , would he?_

Clank blinks, tapping at his chin with a black, stubby finger. “Halfworld?” Groot nods. “Ratchet’s Lombax species originated on a planet known as Fastoon. Ratchet, however, grew up on his own on a planet called Veldin on Kyzil Plateau. Why do you ask of a place called Halfworld?”

Groot frowns slightly. “I am… I am…” the tree muses sadly.  _That is Rocket’s place of… origin. I assumed due to their similar appearances that Ratchet was also victim to their cruel treatment…_

Clank cocks his head. “Cruel treatment? What do you mean?”

Groot shakes his head. “I am Groot.”  _I cannot say more. It is Rocket’s personal business. Forgive me, but I do not wish to share such deeply painful information with someone we have only both just met._

“Ah,” Clank says with a nod. “I completely understand, Groot. No need to apologize.” Clank’s already scanned Rocket’s and Groot’s bodies for any strange anomalies and is already fully aware of Rocket’s metallic skeletal structure. The robot knows it shouldn’t be there. He has just decided to remain silent on the issue. “How did you come across Rocket? It seems unlikely for someone of his caliber to be with someone like you.”

Groot bristles slightly as he begins to shuffle the cards back into a neat deck. “I am Groot,” he says. _A prison break. My first, his fifth. Ever since then we’ve been together. And now with our newly found friends, we’ve saved the galaxy once. He's doing so much better emotionally as well.._. The tree looks around worriedly before leaning down and whispering, “I am Groot.”  _Do not tell him I said this, but Rocket most definitely wants to begin a relationship with our friend Gamora. I’ve heard him say, ‘Ya_ _can’t spell assassin without sin… and twice the ass!’ once when he was alone in his room after she’d walked on by his doorway and he cocked his head, staring at… you know._  The tree holds a finger to his wooden lips and makes a ‘shush’ sound.

Clank chuckles into his hand. “Oh my. I do not know this Lady Gamora, but I do imagine she is quite the temptress?”

Groot shakes his head. “I am Groot.”  _The opposite, actually. Although she is quite kind, she is definitely not the dating type._

“Ratchet may or may not be involved with a friend of ours,” the robot says. “Talwyn? I am not quite sure of their current status myself. But I wouldn’t be surprised if-”

“Yoooooooo.” Suddenly, the conversation between the two non-biological beings is interrupted by the shared introduction of that one syllable word that’s being carried out for two seconds too long.

Rocket has suddenly launched himself up onto their shared table with a glass in his hand, legs shaky, eyes tired and drunk looking. Ratchet follows suite, but only leans over on the table whilst laughing like a madman.

“I just-I just wan’ tell ya two ugly morons tha’ me ‘n’ Ratchet here-” Rocket suddenly plops down on his bottom and wraps one of his arms around Ratchet’s shoulders tightly, “-are, li’e, best friends now. Coz we don’ go’ no one but us and we-we just-” The raccoon hiccups and suddenly releases a belch so loud the entire establishment could’ve shaken. “That one-one hurt,” Rocket slurs, making a disgruntled face.

Ratchet looks at Clank and gives a thumbs up. “Like, seriously, I am so, like, drunk that I don’ even care anymore. D’ya think Qwark ca’ come an’ pick us up? I don’ wan’ fly?”

“Automatic ignition system, Ratchet,” Clank tells Ratchet snidely. “I do believe you and I have been over this at least ten years ago?”

“Oh my gosh, you’re right!” Ratchet seems genuinely surprised at the not-so-new information Clank’s just garnished him with. Clank smacks himself in the forehead and mumbles something incoherent.

“I am Groot?” the tree inquires thoughtfully.  _How many did the two of you have?_

Ratchet looks to Groot with wide eyes and bursts out laughing. “R-R-Rocke’! Wha’d he say? What’d he say?! I can’t understand dumb.”

Rocket looks at Ratchet with squinted eyes and his mouth open as if he’s going to speak. “Oh, uh, he said, uh… how many drinks we have?”

“Twenty total!” Ratchet announces proudly with his finger waving triumphantly in the air. “And you got one more left right there!”

Rocket gasps. “Oh my Go’, you’re right! Twenty-” a hiccup, “-one!” The raccoon downs the drink with one quick slosh down his throat and drops the glass to the ground without a care. “Wooooo!”

Clank looks to Groot in shock, who’s giving the robot a similarly concerned look.

“I am Groot?”  _Back to our rental ship? We have beds. Ratchet is too incapacitated to fly._

Clank nods. “Agreed.”

* * *

 

The whole way back, Rocket and Ratchet were both slung sloppily over Groot’s shoulder all the while they continued their slurred, drunken conversation with one another. Lots of laughter over tiny things, comments to random people that turned and gave them both dirty looks, and Groot swears Rocket said something about taking Gamora out on a date.

There was a lot of other stuff Groot and even Clank couldn’t understand, despite his translator chip definitely having a ‘Drunk Off Your Ass’ language setting.

Rocket was tossed precariously onto the pilot seat of the ship and immediately started snoring like a madman while Clank somehow managed to walk his much taller friend into the backroom where Rocket’s bed for this rental ship, which he’d deemed the ‘Rack ‘n’ Ruin 2.0’, was located.

Twenty minutes and three times Clank got fallen on top of by his drunk friend later, the robot emerged, dusting himself off and wiping his head of the sweat that doesn’t form there since he happens to be a robot. “I have never seen Ratchet this inebriated. Perhaps I should have the tender thin his drinks next time.”

“I am Groot,” the tree shrugs. _Usually we have to do that with Rocket. Poor guy takes one shot of anything at least 100-proof and he’s immediatelly as drunk as they come_. The tree trudges over toward the tiny excuse for a cot that sits in the lower deck and turns on one of their holo-screens. “I am Groot?”  _Would you like to watch something on Netpix? I assume you do not sleep since you are machine._

“Recharging is necessary, but I am currently running at 87% battery level.” In other words, yes, Clank wants to watch something with the tree. “However, I have a suggestion of my own that I am sure your ‘Netpix’ does not contain.”

The tree hums, slightly confused, “I am Groot.”  _I am willing to watch whatever you’d like, Clank. After all, you are the guest on our ship._

Clank nods up and down before he says quickly, as if letting out an embarrassing confession, “Yes, well… You wouldn’t be opposed to Courtney Gears, would you?”

Of course Groot would only regret that decision  ** _after_**  watching the entire two hour concert that Clank, for whatever reason, had a ridiculous soft spot for.


	2. ...And the next day, the Lombax and the 'Bot Start Makin' War.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next day's a little... strange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration struck.
> 
> And I love all four'a these dorks.
> 
> So there ya go.

“Oh… my… **_fuckin_** ’... god.”

It’s not too difficult to imagine who’s teeth spat this phrase. Groot can hardly muster ‘We are Groot’ without his throat malfunctioning. It’s not Clank, and it’s not because the robot has some moral stance against swearing. It’s the diction, obviously. He’d say ‘fucking’, not ‘fuckin’.’ It’s not Ratchet. It just doesn’t sound like Ratchet to say this sort of thing, especially when it’s the first words out of the offender's mouth.

So it’s Rocket.

The hungover-beyond-repair raccoon barely blinks his eyes open to mere slits, wetting his mouth with a few clamps of his snout since it’s about as dry as a desert accompanied by a taste in his mouth he can only compare to a rotting corpse from a squid that washed up on Felix and roasted in the sun for days. There’s a headache that feels more like an axe is lodged in Rocket’s skull instead of a pain caused by drinking too much. His stomach churns violently when he swallows, and he nearly gags, but he manages.

Rocket straightens his posture in the pilot’s seat. Whichever genius deposited him here in this uncomfortable seat still in his full, tight, orange get up is gonna get a real ramming when he’s not about to die, and he knows that it’s Groot. Or Ratchet. But it’s likely Groot.

He keeps his eyes shut to block out the sunlight spraying through the airshield window and groans. “I swear, that was not a good idea at all. Battleplex already hurt my body enough and now I’m hungover as shit.”

“Perhaps,” a distinct voice Rocket’s heard only a couple of times now comes, “you should have Groot think your drinks even further?”

It’s not Groot because Groot can’t even-oh, this is been there done that. Rocket looks over to his right painfully and comes face-to-face with the toaster oven. “Shuddup, toaster oven,” he grumbles. “Don’t wanna hear it from ya.”

“I am simply attempting to help,” Clank says in his defense, although it doesn’t sound like he’s disgruntled by Rocket’s response. “There’s been very few events Ratchet has become as inebriated as the both of you are now. And I know it isn’t the greatest feeling in the universe.”

“Nooooope,” Rocket responds. “Need a frickin’ painkiller. Or eighty.”

“Eighty painkillers is far beyond the amount needed for your wei-”

“I mean I feel like shit and I need painkillers, Clank.” That’s the first time Rocket’s used Clank’s name, and the robot doesn’t like the bite in his tone. But he understands that it’s coming from a place of frustration, sickness, and exhaustion.

“Rocket, I-”

Rocket leans out of the seat painfully and holds out a hand. “Be quiet. I’ll get ‘em myself. Don’t need your help with nothin’ like this, toaster boy.” Another wave of pain cracks against his skull, forcing Rocket to press a hand against his temple , another fixing his crotch where his outfit is riding up horribly, and grumble a hundred different obscenities under his breath while he shuffles out of the cockpit and middeck of his and Groot’s rental ship.

Clank followed suit once the raccoon was a safe distance away.

“Groooooot,” the raccoon grumbles loudly, “where the fuck is the headache shit?”

Silence.

“Groooooooot.”

Another few seconds of silence.

“Groooo-”

“Rocket, _**really**_?”

Rocket twists on his heel and sees Ratchet, and he looks no better than the raccoon does. His brown hat’s lopsided, fur clumped on his face from drool, and he looks like he’s gonna wretch any second now.

“Boo-hoo, Ratchet,” Rocket mutters. “Where the hell’s Groot?”

“He went out.”

“Whaddaya mean he went _**out**_?”

“That’s what I was meaning to tell you, Rocket,” Clank interjects between the two fuzzy creatures. “Groot realized there wasn’t any remedy to relieve either of you of the symptoms you’d both be feeling today and left to retrieve something for both of you complete geniuses.” Was that a twinge of sarcasm in Clank’s tone, a bit of sass in his posture while he crossed his arms and squinted his green eyes at the two of them. “Might I suggest not drinking a total of twenty one drinks between the both of you next time?”

“He drank more,” Ratchet says accusingly.

“Damn right,” Rocket responds.

“That does not justify your actions, Ratchet,” Clank responds. “That is just-”

“What are ya, his mom?” Rocket interrupts. “Sheesh. Just let the-”

“Rocket, it’s not a big deal,” Ratchet says. “It really wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had.” He rubs his skull with an ungloved hand to indicate the oncoming migraine. “It really wasn’t.”

Rocket rolls his eyes and rubs them with balled up fists a moment later. “You guys are so dumb, I swear. I’d kick the both’a ya’s off here in a sec, but I don’t wanna be a dick since me ‘n’ Ratchet are in the same boat here.”

“Actually, you took more, Rocket,” Clank muses. “I’d suspect your boat has more holes.” He gives his distinct giggle that Ratchet knows well, but Rocket growls lowly when he hears it.

“If ya don’t get outta here and into another room in the next five seconds I’m seriously gonna turn ya into a toaster, Clank.”

Clank just laughed again, and at that, Rocket stomped away toward the room where Ratchet had stayed that night beforehand.

* * *

 

It’s well over two hours later since Groot left, and the sentient tree has not yet made his long-awaited return to the ship where the three wait.

Ratchet knows he and Clank could just leave since Aphelion’s literally right there. He can see her from outside the cockpit window. But for whatever reason, he feels inclined to stay here with Rocket. Maybe it’s because he knows the raccoon’s in a worse place than he is. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to leave Rocket here alone and in a ton of pain and feeling as sick as ever. He gets what that’s like.

Plus there’s the added perk of getting something for his own oncoming headache. That’s a plus.

But aside from the pain in his head, Ratchet’s not feeling as awful as he’d expected. He still feels sick and hungover, but it’s not as awful as he’d expected. He can still go about and communicate with people normally and not give them an angry response that’s rather out of character for him.

When he was fifteen, he’d do that constantly, even without alcohol in his system. Nowadays? He feels bad for it, even with the alcohol in his bloodstream.

“Where’s this tree at?” Ratchet, sitting with his feet kicked up on the dashboard, twiddling his thumbs, asks. “It’s been… what, two hours? Rocket’s been passed out for an hour now. Must’ve really hit him harder than he thought.”

“Indeed,” Clank responds, sitting in the passenger seat and holding a tablet-like device that Ratchet assumes belong to Rocket in his hands.

“What’s that?”

“It is a mobile device that allows the user to find, store, and record information.”

“Sooooo a tablet?”

“It would appear so.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious. What’re you looking for? Don’t tell me it’s more Courtney Gears-”

“It is not,” Clank says defensively. “I am searching for a place Groot had mentioned to me last night. Have you heard of a place called Halfworld?”

Ratchet thinks for a moment and doesn’t draw anything that sounds remotely like Halfworld off of the growing list of planets he and Clank have visited. “Don’t think so, bud. Why? Is it like Pokitaru?”

Clank grimaces, “I would not presume so. Groot had brought it up during a conversation we were having last night and told me it is Rocket’s place of origin.”

“So why’s it such a big deal to you?”

“Groot seemed genuinely… disturbed when I pressed forward on the issue. I am curious myself, and I would prefer you don’t let our host know I’m looking into this.”

“You’re looking it up on his tablet,” Ratchet points out.

“Deleting the history is not too difficult, Ratchet,” Clank retorts.

“Touche.”

“If you say so.”

A few beats of silence before Ratchet gives a breath, leans out of the seat, and pops his back. “Look, it’s been forever and I kind of just wanna go back to our place. This battleplex crap’s ruined my vacationing mood. I’m gonna go find Groot. Where’d he say he was headed?”

Clank looks up from the tablet and says, “A marketplace near the bar. Two blocks west from where the entry to the bar faces.”

“Great. Thanks, Clank.”

Ratchet strides out a moment later, and Clank is left to his research on the planet in question.

And Clank is more or less disturbed to the very core at what he finds about the planet within the Keystone Quadrant of this galaxy.

He’d blindly assumed Rocket was born the way he was, cocky attitude and sharp voice all coming with the package deal of a coat of brown fur and a tail. Of course, that’s not the case. Rocket was, if Clank’s assuming correctly, one of this planet’s experiments that let itself- not itself. Himself. He let **_himself_** loose.

The robot has to read it again and again to be sure he’s correct in also assuming that cybernetically and genetically engineering living creatures for scientific pursuits is highly illegal. Well, at least the way Halfworld’s doing it is highly illegal. To study animals that are of an undiscovered species or that are already dead is one thing. To take them, tear them apart, and give them minds of their own is… something else entirely.

When Clank picks up on the sound of a door sliding open from down on middeck, he immediately swipes the history on the tablet away, shuts it off, and runs as fast as his tiny little legs can carry him down the stairs.

He just barely catches the sight of a familiar brown tail in the doorway to the galley.

Curious to see if the raccoon’s feeling any better without Groot’s medicine he was bringing back, Clank strides into the galley.

It doesn’t appear Rocket looks any better. In fact, he looks almost worse. He pulls a stool that folds out from out of nowhere, stripped of his flight suit and only wearing a pair of baggy, black pants that look too big for him and would very likely fall straight to his ankles if it weren’t for the drawstrings tied tightly at his waist.

When the raccoon climbs up, seemingly unnoticing the robot watching from a safe distance, Clank sees it. There’s about five of them, varying in size and shape, sticking out of Rocket’s back where a patch of fur is missing. Metal. Clank can’t place the type, but he assumes it’s adamantium since it seems the only choice if this metal is Rocket’s…

If it’s Rocket’s _**spine**_.

Rocket’s ears pick up off his head for the first time in forever. “I can hear the frickin’ wirrin’ of your fingers, Clank.” He pulls himself onto the counter, grabbing up a plastic thermos that sat idly by, and trudges across to the sink. Ah, water. That makes sense, Clank notes.

“I heard you were awake and wanted to be sure you weren’t-”

“Psh. I’m fine,” Rocket lies as he fills the jug up and screwing the lid on after a massive gulp.

“You appear to be dehydrated?” Clank guesses.

“Well, ya ain’t wrong. Where’s your space boyfriend at?”

Clank doesn’t think much of the comment. “Ratchet went to find Groot. He has not yet returned from his trip.” Rocket groans and rubs his forehead in frustration with the heel of his palm. “I would assume Ratchet will be back with him anytime now.”

“Idiot prob’bly got distracted by a frickin’ fancy new cookie or some shit. God dammit, ya should’a made me go with ‘im.”

“You did not look to be in the state to leave the ship, Rocket. Considering you-”

“Don’t gimme an excuse,” Rocket grumbles, leaping off the counter and landing on his feet effortlessly. He still hisses at the pain in his aching body, especially in his knees. “H-He always gets distracted by somethin’ dumb when I let ‘im go places alone.” The raccoon moves past Clank and toward the doorway. “Back hurts,” he grumbles while he takes a drink.

“Is it because of…?” Clank stops, and Rocket does, too. He turns to Clank, peeking a glance over his shoulder, and baring his teeth slightly.

“Not coz’a this, no. Just an ache down here.”

Clank blinks. “If you don’t mind me asking about Halfworld...?”

Rocket rolls his eyes and says irritably, “How I came to be, right?”

Clank doesn’t get a chance to respond with a nod or any words at all. Rocket can see it in the robot’s eyes that he has a question about Living Hell, as he’s come to call it.

“Figured this’d come up at some frickin’ point with ya two jackasses. Look, I dunno how ya heard ‘bout it, but it ain’t a good place. Don’t **_ever_** go there. They might take Ratchet and fuck him up as bad as they did to me.” Rocket takes another drink like it’s an alcoholic beverage and wipes his lip with the back of his hand. “I would give anything for it to just get blown off the map. But it’s… I can’t go back. It’s…”

“I understand. I apologize for bringing it up.”

With that, Rocket gives a shaky nod and heads back to his room.

Clank can’t be sure, but he almost feels like he’d heard Rocket say, “I’d give any **_fuckin_** ’ thing…” in a wet voice from behind the door.

* * *

 

“So, does Rocket know you were buying all these things, Groot?”

The tree grins from ear to ear (er, twig to twig? Branch to branch?) and shakes his head. “I am Groot.”

Ratchet snorts. “He’s gonna be a little less than happy with you, big guy. I hope you know that.”

Groot shakes his head. “I am Groot,” he rumbles, gesturing to the bags in each of his hands. Ratchet had offered to carry some of them to ease the weight off of the tree’s limbs, but Groot gave a shake of his head and an “I am Groot” that Ratchet assumed meant he could handle it himself.

“Uh… I don’t wanna be rude, but I can’t speak tree.”

Groot raises his brow and laughs. “I-I am Groot,” he says apologetically.

“I’ll just assume Rocket won’t care, right?”

Groot nods. “I am Groot,” he says with a wider smile.

Ratchet takes in a breath. “Nice day. Helping me forget my brain’s getting whacked in by an invisible hammer with every step I take.” Groot nudges his shoulder slightly, and the Lombax sees a look of pity. “Not that bad, Groot. Could use some of that painkiller you got though.”

“I am _**Groot**_!”

“I, um… yeah. I’ll just say yeah.”

It’s not long before they arrive back to the lot where the ships are parked and they’re back on Rocket and Groot’s vessel. The second they enter the ship’s entry hatch, Groot sets the bags down in the galley and pounds down Rocket’s door until the raccoon emerged with a tired look on his face.

Ratchet found Clank back in the cockpit, the tablet no longer between his black fingers. “Sorry it took so long. Me and you will be getting outta here in no time. Didn’t miss me too bad, didja?”

“No,” Clank says flatly. “I did not.”

Ratchet doesn’t like the sound of that. Usually Clank has a witty retort for Ratchet, and a flat remark like that’s usually a sign that the robot’s not in the best place. “You okay?”

“I am fine. However, I would not say our-”

“Ratchet. Clank. C’mere.”

That’s Rocket calling up to the two of them.

“One last hoorah?” Ratchet jokes. "Groot did get some rum."

“Perhaps. But I doubt that’s what Rocket wants more than anything right now.”

* * *

 

When the two duos finally departed, it was an exchange of numbers and ship codes for the sake of keeping in touch. Rocket likes Ratchet, Clank likes Groot, and vice versa. Maybe they could all get a drink together again. Maybe Rocket could bring Quill along and he and Ratchet could give him a little bit of hell.

It’s good to have friends, Rocket thinks, outside of the losers on the Milano.

Ratchet thinks so too, but he doesn’t think it’s great when his best friend’s disgruntled and keeping quiet about it.

They’re in Aphelion’s cockpit when Ratchet brings it up. “You’re a great liar and all, but when you lie to me, I damn well know it, Clank.”

Clank doesn’t respond. He simply engages the seatbelt and keeps quiet.

“What’s wrong?”

“Our newfound companion’s homeworld is not a place of happiness, rainbows, and sunshine.”

Ratchet can only sit and wait for Clank to continues.

“Halfworld is a place of cruelty. Experimentation, destruction. It’s not right, Ratchet. And he can’t do anything about it because it is not a place he can return to. It is… painful for him.”

“For… For Rocket, I’m assuming?”

Clank nods slowly. “And I cannot help but feel pity for him. You and him are so alike that it’s… I feel for him like I felt for you when I learned you were the only Lombax within this dimension.” Clank looks to Ratchet with a somber look. “I cannot help it. I apologize for bringing this up.”

Ratchet blinks and flops back into his seat, staring straight ahead into the airlock. “You think of me when you see him?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. It is a similar situation, I would say.”

There’s a brief, pregnant silence before Ratchet grins and says, “Aphelion, can you set coordinates for Halfworld in the Keystone Quadrant?”

“Coordinates set,” the female voice responds with near immediacy, “for Halfworld in the Keystone Quadrant.”

“Ratchet, what are you-”

“Clank, it might just be the alcohol still talking,” he says as he pulls on the thrusters, “but I’m feeling up for something insane. And they’ve got the facilities, but we got a R.Y.N.O. And I think since those two helped us out on the battleplex, _**we’ve**_ got a debt to pay back.”

The robot gives his distinct giggle.

Ratchet just takes that as Clank agreeing wholeheartedly.

* * *

 

“Rocket! Call for you!”

It’s been well over a month since Rocket and Groot encountered Ratchet and Clank and drank the night away. And Rocket replays those days over and over again, never admitting that he wishes he could get with Ratchet again and have another round or two.

Groot never speaks of Clank often, but when he does, he speaks highly of the tiny robot. And Rocket can’t help but feel that Groot wouldn’t mind seeing the ‘bot again either.

“Rocket!”

“I’m comin’ Quill, I’m comin’!” Rocket bounds out of his room and shoos the human away. “A little privacy, yeah? I never get calls exclusively for me.”

Pete struts away with his headphones plastered over his ears, and Rocket answers the call with the flick of a switch. Rhomman Dey’s face pops up. That’s definitely not who Rocket was expecting to see, even though he had no real expectation as to who would pop up on the other end.

“Rocket?”

“The one and only,” the raccoon grins. “Nice to see ya, I guess. Family’s doin’ good?”

“Considering they haven’t been nearly killed by a kamikaze, yes. We’re all good here.”

“Great. Whaddya callin’ about?”

“Straight into the heart of the issue. Should’ve expected that.”  
Rocket gives a half shrug. “Eh, we’re a lil’ busy. Got a couple’a jobs lined up we’re en route to.”

“Than I’ll be brief, but you might want to hold onto your pants.” The Xandarian laughs, and it takes Rocket a moment to understand why he’s laughing.

“Wait, what? Brief… hold onto-oh. C’mon, bad joke, humie,” Rocket says.

“Sorry. But seriously, sit down?”

Rocket glances around the room for a chair and takes one up that’s sitting idly by. “Alright,” Rocket says, hands resting on his knees, hands dangling loosely.

“I’m pretty sure you’re familiar with the Keystone Quadrant?”

Rocket swallows. “Uh, yeah.”

“Well, as you know, there’s not much out there in the line of planets and civilization. The only one that’s still thriving is-” Dey doesn’t have to say it. Rocket understands. “Anyways, um, we had a couple of squadrons head out to see if it was still around and kicking. We do this monthly and the last couple of months they’ve been quiet, but active.”

Rocket starts to breath heavily. “Y-Y-Yeah? A-And what happened? Ya find somethin’?”

A strange smile crosses Dey’s face. “We found that Halfworld’s facilities are less than… erm, standing.”

Rocket blinks. “Wh-What?”

“It’s gone, Rocket. I mean, the planet’s there. But it’s experimental facilities and crime ring is… gone. Like, a hundred percent diminished.”

“H-How?”

“That’s the thing: we have absolutely no idea. We weren’t sure if you guys had anything to do with it or what. We never sent anyone out there. And even if we did, we wouldn’t make an all out attack.” There’s a silence for a moment. “A few of the survivors that we found and have in custody tell of a yellow, furry creature and a robot causing this entire ordeal, but we never found a thing. We’re looking for them right now.

Ratchet. Clank. Ratchet and Clank did that.

They did that for him because Clank _**knew**_...

Rocket stutters, “Y-Ya gonna take ‘em in as prisoners or…?”

“We wanted to herald them, actually. Do you know anything about…?”

“No. I-I don’t, Dey.” The raccoon starts shaking in his seat, mostly out of excitement, partly out of joy, partly out of relief. “S-So it’s-it’s gone? They ain’t gonna do that to anyone or anything else?”

“It would appear not, Rocket.”

Rocket’s gaze darts around wildly. “I… I, uh, I… Dey, can I call ya back later? I need a lil’ bit to take this in.”

“Of course. Take all the time you nee-” The call hangs up before Dey can speak.

Rocket didn’t call Dey back. Instead, he called Groot into the room and said, “They finally did it, buddy. Halfworld’s no more.”

Although he does mention Halfworld being brought to its knees, Rocket never does tell the others of Ratchet and Clank. He doesn’t know why, but he’d rather not tell Quill, Gamora, and Drax of the events that went down for those two days so long ago.

And Rocket doesn’t want to admit that two peoples’ actions who only knew him for less than 48 hours made him cry tears of joy.

But Rocket does make a mental note to kick Ratchet in the nuts for making him get weepy the next time the four of them cross paths.

And that’s _**exactly**_ what happened.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rocket's a nerd, pass it on.
> 
> Figured with the ridiculousness that is the Ratchet and Clank games, only those two'd bring Halfworld to its knees. Don't ask how they did it, but I'm sure they destroyed the majority of the experimentation labs and such. Probably had someone else's help, too.
> 
> Comments are fuckin' awesome.

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaaaand there we go.
> 
> Hopefully nothin' was too outta the ordinary, especially Clank's interest in Courtney Gears' music... Was also gonna have the actual fight against the knockoff Hydra Tank go down but I didn't wanna make this too long. That's why there's a little time skip.
> 
> Also, shameless plug for Div's contest. I think I may be the first entrant? Go enter and kick my story's dumb ass. She's givin' away some awesome stuff and I wanna see some competition in this thing!
> 
> Also, shameless plug for me 'n' Div's collab project 'Risky Business' - go read it. It's the greatest thing ever written in the history of the universe. May be labelled "Rocket/Gamora" but there's more to the story than just them goin' on dates and bein' a cheesy couple. Plus baby raccoons. Who doesn't like those?
> 
> Also, join Div's contest. I can't stress that enough.


End file.
